Les Miserables: Tuesday Nights
Title: Tuesday Nights
Fandom: Les Miserables
Characters/Pairings: Javert
Genre: Silly
Word Count: 422
Summary: Javert is annoyed.
Author's Note: In my request post, gwynethfar challenged me to write a story centering on Javert with the prompt “He never cared for turnips”. Also, this is technically my first ever Les Mis story, isn't that exciting?
Dedication:
For Jen,
I hope you enjoy this! I’ll admit the prompt threw me off for a while, but I think I’ve managed to at least make some kind of sense out of the madness.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I don’t own their stories, I don’t even own this computer. Feel free to sue me, but I doubt you’ll get very much.
Tuesday nights. One knew before he even woke up on a Tuesday that nothing would happen on the night watch, there was just something about Tuesdays. To some of the officers, they were a blessing, to some, a curse. Well, they were really only a curse to one, but he seemed upset enough about it to count for more than one. It was not as if the officers were avoiding work, they simply enjoyed that there was none. This Javert fellow who had just arrived, on the other hand, seemed to have a serious problem accepting that there was really nothing to do.
“Perhaps you should all be suspicious that nothing ever happens on Tuesday nights. It is more responsible to be suspicious than to be-“
He shook his head, looking from one inebriated officer to another.
“Drunk,” he muttered bitterly under his breath, knowing perfectly well that none were listening to him.
“Loosen up, inspector! You’re not working in a prison anymore, this is a very small town, our mayor stays sober so the rest of us don’t have to!”
Javert’s annoyance increased…if he had to spend one more night hearing about that mayor he was sure he would end up as drunk as his moronic coworkers.
“Hey! Why you don’t have pint, Mr. Jabbert?” the man next to him slurred.
“I don’t drink, and I certainly don’t drink when there’s an entire town of whores and thieves being policed by one sober man and twenty drunkards!”
“Did he say he doesn’t drink?” another replied, as though those were the only real words Javert had gotten out.
“Then you should have some soup, sir. It’ll fix your mood right up. Excellent turnips in this here pub,” the same man who had recommended a pint offered.
Finally unable to tolerate those around him, Javert stood furiously and slammed his hands on the table.
“I am going to patrol the streets, like all of you should be doing. Is there any man on this police force with enough respect for his position to join me?”
The other officers looked from one to the other, some broke out laughing immediately, others were able to hold it in, but only for a few seconds longer. Javert finally accepted his position and stomped off, more than a little humiliated.
“What’s wrong with him?” the man who had been next to him asked, as soon as Javert was outside the pub.
“Maybe he never cared for turnips,” his friend replied, grabbing a new pint with enthusiasm.
Fandom: Les Miserables
Characters/Pairings: Javert
Genre: Silly
Word Count: 422
Summary: Javert is annoyed.
Author's Note: In my request post, gwynethfar challenged me to write a story centering on Javert with the prompt “He never cared for turnips”. Also, this is technically my first ever Les Mis story, isn't that exciting?
Dedication:
For Jen,
I hope you enjoy this! I’ll admit the prompt threw me off for a while, but I think I’ve managed to at least make some kind of sense out of the madness.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I don’t own their stories, I don’t even own this computer. Feel free to sue me, but I doubt you’ll get very much.
Tuesday nights. One knew before he even woke up on a Tuesday that nothing would happen on the night watch, there was just something about Tuesdays. To some of the officers, they were a blessing, to some, a curse. Well, they were really only a curse to one, but he seemed upset enough about it to count for more than one. It was not as if the officers were avoiding work, they simply enjoyed that there was none. This Javert fellow who had just arrived, on the other hand, seemed to have a serious problem accepting that there was really nothing to do.
“Perhaps you should all be suspicious that nothing ever happens on Tuesday nights. It is more responsible to be suspicious than to be-“
He shook his head, looking from one inebriated officer to another.
“Drunk,” he muttered bitterly under his breath, knowing perfectly well that none were listening to him.
“Loosen up, inspector! You’re not working in a prison anymore, this is a very small town, our mayor stays sober so the rest of us don’t have to!”
Javert’s annoyance increased…if he had to spend one more night hearing about that mayor he was sure he would end up as drunk as his moronic coworkers.
“Hey! Why you don’t have pint, Mr. Jabbert?” the man next to him slurred.
“I don’t drink, and I certainly don’t drink when there’s an entire town of whores and thieves being policed by one sober man and twenty drunkards!”
“Did he say he doesn’t drink?” another replied, as though those were the only real words Javert had gotten out.
“Then you should have some soup, sir. It’ll fix your mood right up. Excellent turnips in this here pub,” the same man who had recommended a pint offered.
Finally unable to tolerate those around him, Javert stood furiously and slammed his hands on the table.
“I am going to patrol the streets, like all of you should be doing. Is there any man on this police force with enough respect for his position to join me?”
The other officers looked from one to the other, some broke out laughing immediately, others were able to hold it in, but only for a few seconds longer. Javert finally accepted his position and stomped off, more than a little humiliated.
“What’s wrong with him?” the man who had been next to him asked, as soon as Javert was outside the pub.
“Maybe he never cared for turnips,” his friend replied, grabbing a new pint with enthusiasm.